


Swan Song

by Hanatamago



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: CF Yuri, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned Ferdibert, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), VW Balthus, angst with an ending, opposite sides
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanatamago/pseuds/Hanatamago
Summary: If Balthus had been there at the end of things - instead of in Kupala, that is - would it have changed anything? If he’d been there when the Empire stormed the monastery, could he have shouldered some of the weight Yuri was carrying for Abyss? Could he have convinced him to stay?Five years down the line, Balthus still doesn’t know. Maybe he can’t turn back the clock, but he can sure as hell run into battle as many times as it takes to find Yuri and ask.Balthuri Week 2020 - Day 6: Battle/Performance
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21
Collections: Balthuri Week





	Swan Song

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6! Enjoy! :)
> 
> \---  
> Hey check out this cool art Sun did :)  
> https://twitter.com/sunmikkyu/status/1285311355679956992
> 
> Not exactly for this story - but it fits!

"Then it is decided. We will use the terrain to our advantage and press the attack.” Hubert gestures to the mock, oaken battlefield sprawling across the war table.

The Black Eagles Strike Force’s war room is packed to the brim with tacticians and commanders, Yuri among them. Most seem to be following along with Hubert’s plan - perhaps not Caspar, but most. 

Linhardt, Dorothea, fall back if you must,” he drones on. Not that it isn’t a good call - they must preserve their healers, after all. But Yuri is, admittedly, tired of their looping talk of tactics. “Though we have much to gain at Gronder, we cannot be goaded into recklessness.” 

Objectively, there are more tiny wooden men waving tiny red flags than there are waving yellow and blue. Of course, it’s not so simple. One of those blue-clad wooden men holds the fury of a bloodthirsty demon army a hundred strong if rumors are to be believed. One of the yellow men - truthfully, _all_ of the yellow men are terribly clever at best and wholly unpredictable at the worst.

Yuri has some ideas, though. There are traps, schemes, all sorts of tactics that he’s designed with Hubert’s help. They have the numbers, and they have all the advantages granted by having a stable nation for the last five years. While the Kingdom and Alliance have been consumed by infighting between loyalists and imperial sympathists, the Empire has only grown ever stronger… But at what cost?

“With that, the meeting is adjourned,” Hubert barks. “I need not remind you that Lady Edelgard is counting on your strength, so do not falter in your training.”

The commanders begin to trickle out of the strategy tent. Linhardt is the first out, unsurprisingly. A few move to the back of the tent to further discuss the plans. No doubt, Ferdinand has found some minuscule point in the plan that he’s deemed ripe for argument. Heh, Hubert enjoys it though, in an odd way. Not that he’d ever admit it, but it’s clear enough to Yuri’s eyes. Absently, he wonders if Hubert will ever stop denying his feelings for the paladin. Probably not. Still, Yuri can dream of a world where Hubert has anything better to do than micromanaging him.

In less than a week’s time, three armies will clash on Gronder Field. It’s set to be a damn bloodbath. Hard to say who will come out on top. In Yuri’s opinion, no one will. The Empire’s got a dozen battalions of dark mages, the Kingdom has an unkillable beast for a king, and the Alliance has the Sword of the Creator - and its wielder. No matter how you slice it, there will be casualties. Lots of casualties, scattered all through the three armies. Odds are, some of those casualties will be people he knows well.

A class reunion, eh? Well, Yuri can’t help but feel like he’s intruding.

This isn’t his fight. This was never supposed to be his damn fight. All those years at the academy, he lived below the earth, emerging only for classes and missions here and there. Sure, some of the noble kids were tolerable, but friendship?

His duty was Abyss, and that came first.

So why the hell did he let himself get dragged into this? Fighting for some insane ambition? Heh, it’s a good dream - a meritocracy - but far too uncertain for his taste. All the flames in the world won’t drive out the Empire’s corruption for good. Even now, darkness slithers among them. Perhaps it’s necessary to go up against the strength of the Goddess reborn, but… Well, it leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Goddess, he really should be back in Abyss. At the very least, his time might be better spent assassinating some terribly deserving nobles. But no. Nooooo. He just had to play the fucking martyr, didn’t he? So instead of protecting Abyss in earnest, Yuri is miles and miles away, camping in a shit tent, by a shit swamp on a shit road to a battle at Gronder Field, which will undoubtedly also be shit.

And to what end, pray tell? Even the most absolute of victories won’t stop Claude von Riegan, the Master Tactician. He’s too careful for that - too careful to fall here and ruin his own ambitions. With the church’s banner alongside his own, under the Crest of Flames, dissenters in the Empire only become bolder each day. Heh, it’s a clever move, making the resistance a moral cause. Edelgard may say she fights against the corrupt church, and not the Goddess herself, but she doesn’t have the optics.

Flames, why does no one in this camp give a damn about the optics?

It’s a damn farce, all of it. Edelgard may have her great and powerful ambitions, but the path she means to cut is far, far bloodier than it need be. The whole thing is fucked. If they were going to blackmail Yuri into joining their cause, they could _at least_ make use of his strategies instead of barreling ahead with little regard for collateral damage—

Yuri sighs.

Blood and fire, that’s what she wants. But how much of the blood she spills will be common? How much grain and coin must she drain from the Empire’s struggling border towns to fuel her cause? Her victory will come on the straining backs of the very commoners she claims she’ll uplift. When the ash clears, will they forgive and forget? 

Heh, well, Yuri doesn’t really give a damn if the Empire falls or flourishes. 

A frigid shadow falls over his tent, slowly creeping up from the firelit center of camp. Bitter magic thickens the air as a lanky, bipedal chill draws near. Surely, the marshy brackish fields they’d chosen to camp in simply weren’t unpleasant enough, the Goddess must punish him further... 

It’s Hubert. Shadow personified, dark magic incarnate, etcetera, etcetera. Not like Yuri needs to look to confirm his fears. He’s the only one who seems just as keen as Yuri himself to skulk about in the dead of night. The only one who seems to relish in being so unsettling. The beast that goes bump in the night, and proudly. Damnit. Can’t even have a night’s watch to himself, can he?

“I do hope you’re getting plenty of rest,” Hubert rasps. “I expect we will need your full strength on the field.” 

Sothis almighty, his voice is always so damn unnerving. If Yuri catches flies with honey, Hubert drives them away with brimstone and the screech of claws on iron. 

“You’ll have it. No need to fret about my sleeping habits, friend.” Yuri peers over his shoulder, painting on a practiced devious grin. “Or... Is there another reason we keep meeting like this? Oh, Hubert, I always suspected you were one for midnight trysts, but here? Where anyone could see us?” 

Yuri shoots him a sly wink. It’ll work; it’ll drive the bloodsucker away for a night, no wooden stake or holy symbol needed. He’s just looking for a damn bit of peace, who cares how he gets it, yeah? This, Yuri thinks, is Hubert’s garlic - unabashed impropriety.

“Unless you’re into that kind of thing.” Yuri feigns shock. “Really, Hubert, exhibitionism?” 

Hubert furrows his brow, and finally, his sickly green eyes choose a new target. Instead, he gazes out at the camp, every bit of his posture visibly prickled by Yuri’s untoward advances. Ha. Good.

“Don’t be absurd,” he scoffs. “You are a vital part of Lady Edelgard’s plan, I simply mean to assure that things do not... go awry.” His tongue curls around the words as they slither from his lips. 

“Have I ever let you down?” Yuri laughs. “You’ll get your victory, friend.”

“It would simply be a shame if your loyalties wavered.” And with that, Hubert withdraws, mage robes flaring out as he sweeps past. Dramatic, isn’t he?

Hubert is not subtle, and he doesn’t mean to be. Balthus von Albrecht is the Alliance’s loudest secret weapon, and Yuri LeClerc is the Empire’s best plan to take him down. Balthus tore through ten of their best commanders in the battle at Myrddin. Wyverns, archers, mages - nothing stops the guy. Even Ladislava, one of the emperor’s chosen few, fell to his might. It was only due to Hubert’s intervention that Ferdinand reluctantly retreated to fight another day.

Clearly, it’s still a sore spot. Balthus was an unknown variable then, but he’s perfectly known now. Emotions aside, the Empire will eventually have to neutralize him to win. Yuri only wishes Balthus hadn’t chosen _now_ to change his tune and fight for his leader like the honorable fool he’s always been at heart. He could have just as easily fucked off somewhere and lived as a drunken mercenary for the rest of his days - would have made things a hell of a lot easier for Yuri.

Hubert’s plan to send Yuri to meet him in battle is just as much a test as it is a valid strategy. They have history. Good history. Days that Yuri would give anything to go back to if that kind of thing were possible. Heh, well, short of the Goddess intervening, that is. But she probably won’t, not for someone as undeserving as Yuri. 

If Yuri hesitates or fails, then Hubert finally gets a reason to confirm his distrust. Suddenly, he’s justified in watching Yuri’s every move, and in threatening Abyss to keep him in line. If Yuri doesn’t fail…

Well, Goddess. He’s not getting any sleep tonight.

* * *

This battlefield sucks ass. Heh, everything about it just… Worst shit could be, really. The whole damn field was foggy when they rode in, and it cleared up just in time for the Empire to set the whole central hill ablaze.

Scarlet flames and grey smoke wrap around Balthus’s skin, painting it over with sweat and ash. There aren’t too many enemies in this section of the forest, so Balthus sends his battalion forward to scope out the field to the north. He ain’t in the business of killing Kingdom troops if he can manage it, but it’s hard to tell with all this chaos.

He pauses for a second, sucks in a breath of sulfurous air. Damn… He can’t stand wyverns, but at least Claude’s fliers are probably gettin’ a breath of fresh air here and there. The mercs under his command were restless for days and days leading up to the battle, but all of those nerves had better be gone now. This is the job, yeah? So they take it, and they forge on.

Well, he’s putting his life in the dicers’ hands now, so they better be up to the task!

Every patch of forest Balthus cuts through seems a little more burnt. The Empire’s flames have spread far and wide at this point. The terrain gets a little more hostile each minute they burn. But hey, that’s an incentive to end this shit quickly. He’s got two axes strapped to his back, but he hasn’t had to pull ‘em out just yet. Empire Shmempire - most of the Emperor’s forces go down on the first punch, and he’s got _plenty_ of fierce fists to go around.

Strong as he is, even Balthus starts to feel the smoke stingin’ in his eyes when he stays still for a minute too long. Balthus rests for a second while his troops scout ahead. It’s not slacking, just taking a second to breathe, to focus a bit, to clear his mind... It’s a meditation thing, one he learned from his mom. Heh, she probably didn’t think her baby boy would be usin’ it on the battlefield, but here he is.

All of a sudden, before he can really catch his breath, a swirl of bright pink magic flares up around his feet, and then he’s in some clearing, five feet away from a scrawny Empire mage. Poor guy’s jaw drops as he starts to stumble away from Balthus, realizing what kinda punching machine just warped into existence next to him.

Fuckin’ hell. Was that Lysithea’s idea?

Well, he’s a bit dizzy, but he’ll bite. Balthus sucks in a breath and charges towards him with a silver fist, ready to strike—

And just before he lands a punch on the guy, another pink flare takes him too, and it’s _Yuri_ standing in front of him instead. He catches Balthus’s wrist in his hand and dodges aside, sending him careening off to the left.

“Good to see ya,” Balthus grins. “Been a while.”

A smile flickers across Yuri’s lips. It’s a small thing, probably one Balthus doesn’t deserve to see. Not when they’re fighting on opposite sides. Not as Yuri unsheathes his sword, ready to throw down. It’s good steel, and with a wicked sharp edge that he always polishes himself. Heh, shit’s probably gonna hurt. Should be fun, though.

“Sorry, I know I made myself awfully scarce.” Yuri slowly circles around him, a touch more skittish than Balthus remembers ever seeing him. But it’s been a few years. It’s been a long while since he saw Yuri last, and things have changed. He looks good. Goddess, he looks damn good. 

“Surprised that little trick of yours still works on me.” Balthus wipes his mouth on the leather padded side of his spiked gauntlets. Blood smears across the stitching, but hey, it’ll wash out.

“Guess that means you still trust me too much.”

He’s right. Bastard knows he’s right, too. Yuri steps closer, and Balthus… Balthus lets him. Closer, and closer, until the point of Yuri’s sword rests right over his heart. Maybe there’s some shitty metaphor in there, but that - words, fancy words - has always been Yuri’s gig, not his.

“Yeah. Guess I do.” 

Blood sprouts from the tip of Yuri’s blade, steady as he drags a shallow cut along Balthus’s sternum.

“Tell me, friend. Have you considered that trusting me might be a bad idea?” Yuri takes a step back, but he keeps his sword raised. 

“I don’t wanna fight you, Yuri.”

“And I don’t think you have a choice, Balthus.”

“You sure? I’ve got some tea in my bag. Call it a lunch break, yeah?” he says, smiling like there’s any possibility Yuri backs down.

That gets a laugh out of him, bitter as it might be.

“No pastries? Shame. Sweets would have been more tempting.”

Balthus barely sees the flash of silver before Yuri pounces, slashing at his shoulders. 

Good one. A move to cripple, not kill, but Balthus ain’t so easy to take down. He blocks the blade with his right gauntlet and flings it back. Yuri might be more graceful, but the sheer force of Balthus’s shove is still enough to mess with his footing.

Yuri charges forward again, slicing at his arm - or no - fuck, that’s a feint. He lands a solid cut on Balthus’s flank, tearing through the linen robes. The leather scale underneath protects him from the worst of it, but he does feel a bit of blood starting to leak out.

Keep it cool, guy. Balthus disengages, takes a moment to look him over. Steady as Yuri seems, Balthus spots blood gushing out from a wound in his hip. Must have been one lucky arrow - Yuri’s usually pretty tough to hit, or he was back when they fought together. He's got a cut on his shoulder, too. Could be a weak spot if Balthus can grab him there.

When Yuri dives in again, Balthus is prepared. He catches Yuri’s blade between his gauntlets and twists hard, then rams it forward, straight into Yuri’s gut. He stumbles back, gasping for air. Balthus tosses the sword into the forest, hopefully somewhere way outta reach. He grabs Yuri by the front of his cloak and pulls him up against his chest in a tight, slightly crushing hug. Ain’t the best hold, but he’s got Yuri’s arms pinned, so at least he can count out any sneaky sucker punches. 

Balthus sucks in a deep, weary breath, plotting out whatever the hell comes next. Damnit. He’s never been great with words, but this is the only shot he’s gonna get. So he’s gotta make it count, yeah?

* * *

Goddess, he’s just fucking… It’s like Balthus’s arms are made of _steel_ , not flesh. Yeah, this was part of Yuri’s plan, but Sothis, why is he so fucking strong? Yuri struggles in his grip, painfully aware of how little effort Balthus must put into holding him still.

“Don’t die for her, Yuri,” Balthus whispers. “You could switch sides, I know Claude would take you.”

The skin on Yuri’s neck prickles into gooseflesh the second Balthus dares open his mouth. It’s been too long, and he’s way too damned close for comfort… Yuri can nearly taste the coppery blood on Balthus’s lips. Shit, did he do that?

“Balthus—”

“Or we can just run away, ride off to the mountains. Just us two...” Balthus goes on, because he just can’t make anything easy, can he? “They’ll never find us, Yuri. Swear it on the Goddess.” 

He’s a fool, he’s such a _damned_ fool, saying all the things that get Yuri thinking he ever had a chance. Heh, but that’s why...

“The Goddess? You’re supposed to swear on something meaningful, friend,” Yuri quips. “Is she keeping you honest now?”

“Want me to swear on you?” he chuckles. “I would, but I doubt you’re gonna give me that either.”

That’s why he chose Balthus to be the hill he’d die on.

“No, guess I won’t.” His voice doesn’t come out half as steady as he might’ve hoped. Not that he’s afraid, he just… Heh, well, of all the things he expected Balthus might do, pin him down and try to talk it out didn’t seem all that likely. “They’ve got eyes on me every damn minute, Balthus. She doesn’t trust me. She shouldn’t, but...”

“So why fight for her?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” It’s true, but Yuri can’t bring himself to meet Balthus’s eyes when he says it. “She threatened Abyss… No time to come up with a better plan.”

He wasn’t good enough then. Not nearly clever enough. If he had been, maybe… Maybe he could have even stopped all of this from getting out of hand. Back when he’d had his hands on all the strings - back in Abyss when he held Edelgard’s life in his very hands. If he’d just been a little slower, a little duller, maybe... Heh, no use thinking about that now, though. Not like he can turn back the clock. 

He knows what comes next. He knows that Balthus will go on about how Yuri should’ve just told him, should’ve come to him for help, should’ve let Balthus lay down his life for Abyss so Yuri didn’t have to sell out. He’s always been a little slower, a little more optimistic, so he’ll list off all the possibilities Yuri had already done the value calculations for.

So he thinks he knows what’s coming. But clearly, he doesn’t. Instead, after a beat of considering silence, Balthus says:

“You have a choice now.”

Fuck. _Fuck_. Why does he have to make this so much harder than it has to be? Why won't he just _fight_ , dammit? 

Heh, it wasn't supposed to play out like this.

Yuri squeezes his eyes shut and summons up a bright, defiant spark of wind magic.

_Don’t… Please don’t hurt him too bad._

A raging gust erupts from his fingertips, throwing Balthus back. He stumbles a bit - almost manages to stay on his feet, too. Yuri pulls another sword from the sheathes at his hip. Iron this time. Not as sturdy, but he’s always preferred the balance of a lighter blade.

Yuri limps forward, the wound at his hip burning more and more with each step. His body begins to lag behind his mind, and even the light iron sword starts to feel a touch too heavy.

A crippled little hummingbird up against a raging bear… Normally he'd place his bet on the bird, but this is no fable, is it?

Heh, this isn't the time. The script is already written, and Yuri has a role to play. A show to finish out. 

Balthus is strong, but Yuri is damned quick, even now. He may be nearly dead on his feet, but Yuri still gets in a fair few good cuts across his chest. Nothing fatal, just shallow things that'll look way worse than they are. Nothing that won't heal over well enough. Good. That's the plan, isn't it?

Balthus guards against each swing with his thorned silver gauntlets, closing each opening Yuri manages to exploit until it's impossible to find a chip in his shell. He's turtling - just fucking standing there, waiting! For what, Balthus? No matter how many openings Yuri leaves, Balthus never goes in for a punch. He won't hit back. Goddess, why won't he?

"Back down Yuri, you're not gonna outlast me."

"Heh, outlast you?" Yuri chuckles, but it's a weak, strained thing. Just another false face. Hopefully, it's convincing enough. "I don't need Old Father Time to do my killing for me. You could never match me, Balthus."

Get him riled up, piss him off. _Something_...

"What the hell's wrong with you, friend? Too honorable to hit a pretty lady like me?" Yuri spits, and bright blood spatters onto the grass. "I won't hold back on you, you know."

"Seems like ya _are_ holding back on me," Balthus says, "I know you, Yuri. What're you playing at?"

Fucking idiot. Yuri grits his teeth and darts in again, sword aimed to glance off his armored belt. It wouldn't hurt him, doesn't make sense to go for a hit there, but Balthus manages to predict it anyway. He grabs Yuri by the elbow as he lunges in, then twists it the wrong way. Searing pain spikes through his forearm. Distantly, Yuri realizes he's lost his grip on his sword as it drops into the grass with a quiet, dull thump. 

Finally, _finally_ Balthus drives his fist into Yuri's stomach. And Sothis, it knocks the fucking wind out of him. Yuri stumbles forward, clutching his stomach, and both of them tumble onto the grass. He lands flat on Balthus's chest - because he's scorned the Goddess enough that she's got to punish him with making eye contact, too.

Balthus frowns, weary and confused. How many times have they been here before? Under happier circumstances, perhaps, but...

Yuri can't help but remember the other times. The better times. Times when he wasn't fighting for the very air in his lungs. Times when he wasn't dripping fresh blood onto Balthus's skin.

"Talk to me, Yuri," Balthus pleads, "You know I'm not smart enough for this shit." 

His arm curls around Yuri’s waist, but not to lock him in a hold. No, the fool gently pours healing magic into his hip, coaxing ruined skin to try and seal up his wound. 

"Goddess damn you, Balthus," Yuri clumsily reaches for a dagger sheathed at his waist. Shaky as his hands are, he manages to hold it just above Balthus's throat. "Do you _want_ me to kill you? Is that it?"

Come on, fight back. _Fight back_ , Balthus. Yuri blinks back tears, eyes stinging half from the smoke, half from all this nonsense. He must look the very image of desperation… And perhaps that fits. Why must Balthus make this so much harder than it has to be? Why can’t he just play into the goddamn plan?

"Nah. I mean, I wouldn't say I wanna die, but," Balthus swallows, throat bobbing dangerously close to the tip of Yuri's blade, "if that's what ya gotta do, then do it, Yuri. Guess I'm ready to go."

"Shut up, just… Shut the hell up, would you?"

Heavy tears splash onto Balthus's cheeks. Yuri’s, of course. Balthus just smiles. Damn fool smiles, even now.

"Kiss me first? Wanna go out feelin' happy."

Goddess. How did it all get so fucked?

Damnit.

Yuri stabs down beside Balthus's head, sheathing his blade in the soaked grass. He was a fool. They were both such fools to ever think this could go another way. Balthus was too close, too loyal. Yuri was too blind.

Yuri tangles his fingers into Balthus's thick mane. His gloves are slick with blood against Balthus's cheeks - he's got to be making one hell of a mess. And Yuri kisses him, desperate, like his lips might offer him salvation. Heh, it’s the last time, isn’t it? Iron and salt mingle together on his tongue, flooding through their mouths. It’s perfectly awful, but no better than he deserves for putting Balthus through all this. 

Simple, happy fool he is, Balthus slips a gauntlet under Yuri’s leather armor, gently massaging the small of his back. He smiles against Yuri’s lips…

Goddess damn it all.

"I never wanted to kill you, you fool." Yuri whispers.

He falls right back into Balthus's chest, letting the weariness take over. The adrenaline starts to fade, fresh pain boils back to the forefront. He’s racked up a fair few wounds, hasn’t he... Heh, damn... Maybe he’ll go out slow.

"Yeah, I figured that bit out."

“Will you… finish things?” Yuri murmurs, “I can’t go back, Balthus…”

He nods, then turns Yuri onto his back. Kind of an odd position, but he’s too weak to protest.

“See that finch over there?” he nods to the patch of forest beside them.

Yuri finds the goldfinch sitting in the highest branches of a pine tree, chirping away. Funny that, how it seems utterly unperturbed by the carnage below. But then, why would it care?

“Keep lookin’,” Balthus whispers, and then his forearm is tight around Yuri’s neck, choking out all the air.

Yuri gasps for breath, scrabbling at Balthus’s arm, but it’s no use. Even as his nails dig into Balthus’s flesh, frenzied strength enough to break through his skin, but he’s stiff and unyielding as his steel. It’s a knee jerk reaction to fight, but he wanted this. _He planned for this._

And still, it’s terrifying.

Balthus says something, but he can’t make out the words, only the hum in his chest. He’s too far away. The finch flits away somewhere. Not that it matters much. Darkness creeps up on the edges of his vision, and everything starts to go numb save for the fire in his lungs.

Fuck... The clearing starts to fade away into blank nothingness, and the darkness takes over. Heh, he really didn’t think Balthus could manage it, but he did. Good. Guy’s always been full of surprises. Yuri limps closer and closer towards death’s cold embrace.

At least it's by his hands.

* * *

Yuri wakes to a sore throat and a leaden ache in his bone. 

Goddess, why does it feel like he swallowed half a damn desert? He stirs, tries to rub the sleep from his eyes, but the second he tries, it’s clear he won’t be moving his hands a single inch. Thick, coarse rope binds his wrists together behind his back. The hemp chafes at his skin, but at least the tie isn’t too tight.

Shit, where the hell is he? Yuri checks for the blade he keeps hidden in his sleeve - gone. Heh, whoever checked him over was plenty thorough. Even Balthus shouldn’t have known about that one... Claude, maybe? The Master Tactician himself? That would certainly be an honor.

Yuri’s arms scratch against rough, splintering wood. He can bend around a bit, but not enough to feel out the details of his cell. It’s moving. That much is obvious by the jostling of crates beside him. A wagon, maybe? A caravan of some sort? Older men mutter about something in the front, but Yuri can’t make out a single word of their conversation. Damnit.

A strip of opaque cloth around his eyes blocks out anything he might have been able to see, and a knotted bunch of linen in his mouth keeps him gagged. Not that his captors probably give a shit about what he has to say, but maybe he could have weaseled a bit of comfort... Heh, is Claude really worried he’s going to seduce Alliance soldiers? Well, it’s a _valid_ strategy.

The ropes won’t fucking budge. As much as he squirms, there’s no give. His blade is gone, and he’s got no information, and he can’t move an inch—

Shit, shit. Cold panic rises in his throat, fear laced with bile. Feels like a lance piercing his gut all the way through to his throat, but It’s too hard to stay still, too hard to stay calm. He needs to stay calm. He needs to assess the situation and figure out what the fuck he’s going to do, but he’s losing his grip.

A rough hand grabs him by the shoulder, jerking him upright. Damn it, he’s fucking helpless. Goddess, he swore he’d never be helpless again, and yet, here he is. It all feels too damn familiar...

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

He lurches forward in his captor’s grip. Maybe he can headbutt the guy? If he’s not dead already, he’ll just have to fix that himself. Never again. But the man doesn’t even seem put off, he just scoops Yuri up and tugs him into his lap. Yuri struggles, but there’s no fucking point.

“Hey, breathe, Yuri.” The man slips off his blindfold.

It’s Balthus. Of course it’s Balthus.

“Sorry about all this. I know it sucks.” To his credit, to what very, _exceedingly little_ credit he deserves, Balthus looks genuinely remorseful. 

He sets Yuri upright. He does the right things - holds him close, runs his thumb under Yuri’s eyes to wipe away the tears. Damnit, when did that happen?

At least Balthus looks like shit too. Thick patches of dried blood paint over his leather and linen robes. Yuri notices the telltale swelling of bruises all along his arms and chest. Looks like he’s already had a good strong dose of healing magic pumped into him, but his body still has quite a bit of work to do patching things up.

Breathe. Okay, easy enough. Breathe. Yuri tries to put on his best glare.

“It’s just for the ride back.” 

Right. It’s a wagon. They’re in a wagon, likely headed right into the heart of the Alliance’s forces - Garreg Mach. Well, it’s not particularly helpful information at the moment, but it’s nice to have it confirmed: he’s fucked.

Even through the thick, terrible smell of blood and medical salves, Balthus smells like spices. Bitter cloves and strong anise. It’s a terribly useless detail to hone in on, but it grounds him. Distantly, he wonders who’s doing the cooking in Abyss these days… Maybe no one at all.

Yuri steadies himself and tries for a brave face. Doubtful that Balthus is convinced, but hey, it’s all he can muster. He can barely sit up straight, so there’s no point in pretending he’s at his best. Doesn’t feel like he’s still bleeding out, but then, he’d probably be too numb to tell at this point. What’s it been, a few hours? A night, maybe? It’s got to be dark, judging by the lantern hanging between the wagon and the riders up front.

“They’re, uh… they thought you might do something pretty dramatic. Can’t let you cast any spells.”

Heh, well. That’s something. It’s smart of course, but a bit irritating. Yuri manages enough sass to roll his eyes.

“I know, I know.” Balthus smiles. He’s got to be just as tired, right? “Look, I know you really wanna kick me in the balls right now, and that’s pretty fuckin’ fair. Once we get back, I’ll let you go to town on me if it makes up for this part.”

Tempting. He’d laugh if he had the strength, but he doesn’t.

“Can I heal you up? Or do you just want me to leave you alone?” Balthus whispers.

It’s doubly tempting to try to headbutt the guy and tell him to fuck off, but… Well, if he’s going to be executed for war crimes or used as some sort of hostage, may as well take the healing where he can get it. Yuri rests his head on Balthus’s shoulder, squirming until he finds a cozy spot.

Warm, calloused hands work magic over his wounds, filling him with a pleasant buzz of warmth. It’s been a while, but Yuri swears it’s only his faith magic that has ever felt so sunny. In a good way, not in a ‘stay too long and you’ll get burnt’ sort of way. He’s far gentler than the real sun.

“You lost a shit ton of blood.” Balthus peels back his tunic to get at a nasty purple bruise on his stomach. “Had me worried for a bit.”

Yuri gives a weak, disgruntled noise. He’ll be fine. Damnit, that’s beside the point. He should be _dead_ anyway..

“You gonna scream if I take this off?” Balthus’s hand rests on the cloth gag, waiting. 

Yuri rolls his eyes. Even if he did want to break free - and at this point, he’s not so sure he does - he’d be an idiot to ruin his chances of sneaking away. Balthus probably hasn’t thought nearly that far into things. But hey, that’s not really his strong suit.

The fabric falls away with a quick tug at the tie. It’s a small comfort, but the dull ache in his jaw only seems to worsen once he regains control of his mouth. Yuri licks his lips, soothing the stinging corners of his mouth. Eh, it’ll fade soon enough.

“How’d the battle go?” Yuri rasps. Thank the Goddess, Balthus has a waterskin ready. Even if it is slightly irritating that he has to let Balthus slowly pour it into his mouth, he savors every cool drop.

“Bloody, but we won the day. Apparently the Kingdom got just about wiped out. Dunno what Dimitri was thinking. He seemed normal enough back at the academy, but… He was pretty wack out there.”

“He went mad after… After Edelgard turned on the church.”

“Yeah… Somethin’ else was weird, too. Somehow, Claude knew exactly how many troops the Empire was gonna send. Perfect counts on the cavalry, mages, even healers. Helped us avoid the big fire trap they planned. Real insider info.”

Yuri stays silent. Doesn’t meet his eyes. He doesn’t have a response. At least, not a good, calculated one. Heh, never thought he’d still be kicking at this point.

“Probably saved us a lot of men,” Balthus says, “I think Claude would be pretty grateful to whoever got him that intel, yeah? Show the guy a whole lot of mercy?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re implying.” Yuri lets his eyes slip shut, and he focuses on the faith magic warming his skin. “So what’s next, oh mighty warrior king? Gonna take me to your quarters and ravish me? Use me as a hostage against the Empire? They won’t bite, you know. Hubert would probably just thank you for doing the dirty work.”

“Hey, come on...” Balthus sounds hurt. Genuinely hurt. Damnit.

“I’m _kidding_ , Balthus. I know...” He falters. It’s his own fault for making such an ugly accusation, even if it was only in jest. Shitty jest, but jest nonetheless. Ugh. He’s just tired, and the weariness embitters him more than it ought to. “You’re not that kind of man.”

“Damn right I’m not. You’re my prisoner, Claude’s orders.” Balthus presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m not gonna let anyone else touch you, and I’ll fuck right off too if that’s what ya want.”

“Still a prisoner though, yeah?” 

“Just for the ride.” He sighs, pausing for a moment to shift his healing focus to another wound on Yuri’s shoulder. “Y’know, I kinda assumed that’s what you were going for... It’s not like you to let me win so easy.” 

Heh, well. At least he knows he didn’t notch a real win against Yuri. Not this time, anyway. Still… Yuri stays quiet for a long moment, mulling over his next words. The stillness is only broken by stray pebbles bumping along the wagon wheels, the silence is only broken by Balthus murmuring prayers as he sees to Yuri’s wounds.

Maybe it’ll hurt him to hear the truth, but he deserves it. At least this once.

“I wanted you to kill me.” His voice shrinks to a faint whisper as the words fall from his lips. It’s a secret - a plan that was never meant to be shared. But perhaps there’s no point in keeping it that way now. “I’m tired of being some lord’s damn pawn...”

Balthus hugs him close. Through all the blood and sweat, he can still place the subtle eucalyptus pressed into his soaps. It’s a damn hug, not like it’s anything special, but it’s the most genuine fucking comfort he’s had in years.

“Well, you’re just as dumb as I am if you ever thought I could kill you.”

It hurts as much as it heals. Knowing Balthus cares, knowing Yuri has done nothing but make this shit harder on him. Tears force their way out, seeping into Balthus’s tunic. Not like Yuri could ruin it any more than it already has been, though.

“You know,” Balthus continues, “I joined up to find you. Thought maybe I could bring you back. If anyone could, it’d be me, yeah?”

“Sorry. For all of this.” Yuri sucks in a shaky breath. “Heh, I just keep pulling you into my shit, don’t I?”

“Shush. Get some rest, Yuri.” Balthus combs through his hair, soothing out blood-caked little tangles here and there. “I’ll keep you safe. Promise.”

Not like he has the energy to protest, even if he wanted to. Sleep finds Yuri all too quickly. Perhaps he was a bit more tired than he even realizes. Certainly more wounded, if the faith magic is anything to go by. Soon enough, the bumps in the road fade out to little more than calm waves lulling him to sleep, and all he feels are the little patches of sunshine blooming from Balthus’s fingertips.

Yuri dreams of the mountains.

* * *

Metal rattles on metal. A heavy thump. 

Ugh, he should get up, see what that awful sound is, but he’s so, _so_ warm… Yuri curls into the blankets. He’s probably dreaming the soft wool up anyway, not like anyone’s got such luxury in wartime. When he opens his eyes, all the comfort will vanish. So given the odds, why bother waking up at all?

But alas, the sounds don’t stop.

More metal, this time clinking against some sort of cup. Sounds of liquid. Has to be tea, then.

“Three sugars,” Yuri mumbles, voice still thick with sleep. “Any fewer, and I’ll burn the place down.”

Balthus laughs, hearty and far, _far_ too loud.

“Good mornin’ to you too. And I kinda doubt you will.”

Yuri cracks an eye open. The blankets are… real. Soft, too. Well-worn wool knotted into heavy blankets. Blue and gold patterns - probably from the colder northern Alliance territories where people actually need the warmth. It’s not winter, but the room is pretty drafty. He sits up, rubbing his eyes to take in the room properly.

Balthus sits at a desk near the wall, pouring tea into metal tankards. A salvaged, threadbare rug covers the floor. It’s stained with ale and good memories. Better memories, that is. The inner wall is still an unmistakable mess of salvaged wooden beams and crossbars, but that’s Yuri’s fault - he never found the resources to properly patch up their quarters.

As far as cages go, Abyss is a good one. Yuri imagined he’d have to fight to see the place again, but clearly not. Not like he can tell how well things are going by the looks of their old quarters, but it’s still a small comfort to be back. Far better than waking up in a cold, barred cell.

Still. Yuri pushes himself up off the blankets, slowly walks over to Balthus, and slaps him across the face. Heh, feels good to get that out.

“Ouch!” Balthus rubs his jaw, but his smile doesn’t fade.

Yuri reaches for a tankard, beckoned by the sweet scent rising from the tea. 

“What, that it?” Balthus snorts. “Thought you’d be angrier.”

Yuri carefully checks his pockets and sheathes. No armor, no obvious weapons. They did a pretty good job disarming him, though he can still feel his lucky dagger - a thin plate of stiff metal tucked into the sleeve of his boot. Didn’t do him any good back in the wagon, but now that he’s got a free range of motion… Did it really manage to escape Claude’s gaze, or is he just daring Yuri to try something?

“You’re damn lucky I don’t do worse.”

“Aw, you can smack me around a little bit. Promise I won’t get upset.” Balthus winks.

“Oh, you want me to?” Yuri slides onto his lap with a devious grin. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He drops his hand to Balthus’s belt, cupping him through his breeches.

“Heh, I’m consistent, right?”

Yuri coyly bites his lip. He leans up to kiss Balthus, teasingly close, but as soon as Balthus tries to chase after his lips, Yuri pins his shoulder back into the chair. Yuri strokes him through the linen, drawing out a confused, needy whine. Heh, the guy’s always had a thing for danger.

“Pull anything like that again, and I’ve got a knife with your name on it.” Yuri whispers right against his ear. “You know I like to take trophies, yeah?” 

He pulls away with a parting squeeze. Balthus pouts, but hey, bastard deserves it for taking him prisoner.

Yuri sits back on the lower bunk, spiced tea in tow. 

“I meant what I said, Yuri. I’m keepin’ my word. You have a choice now.”

“Oh?” Yuri quirks an eyebrow.

“You’re free to go if ya want, but I’m sure Claude could use your strength here, too. You know all about what the Empire’s packin’, I know he’s not gonna turn that down. But you’re not my prisoner, Yuri. I just…” Balthus fidgets. “You never really got to pick your own destiny. Well, now’s your chance. Nothin’ holding you back now. Not even me.”

“Hm. You’re saying I could walk out that door and disappear off into the sunset, and you wouldn’t chase me down?”

“Well, I might chase you down, but not for Claude,” Balthus laughs, “It’d just be ‘cause I like being by your side.”

“Right.” Yuri packs that admission away to swoon over later. “Well, what’s the catch, then? Do I have to outrun a pack of demonic beasts? Is Claude planning to take a cut of all the coin I earn for the next seven years? You gonna curse me?”

“No catch. But I wanna show you something first.” 

It seems too simple to be true, but maybe it is. Maybe Claude is testing the waters, or maybe he just realizes that Yuri could do far more harm than good if he felt trapped again. But if Claude thinks there’s any possibility he’ll run, then why let Yuri into their base? 

It doesn’t add up, but he’ll have to grapple with that later.

“Sure,” Yuri relents. He shrugs and gestures for Balthus to lead the way, and he does.

Balthus leads them out of the old Wolves’ quarters and out into the tunnels of Abyss. Still the same bricks, still the same dim torches lighting the walls. Not much seems to have changed. But as they walk, Yuri hears a clamor in the distance - people.

Living people. Happy people, by the sounds of it. And lots of them. Maybe his little plan hadn’t failed too badly.

“Hey, you in there, Yuri?” Balthus slows to a stop.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did ya?”

“Can’t have been anything too important.” Yuri smiles. “Sorry about that, friend. I was just... reminiscing.”

“You haven’t been back since all this started, have you?”

His throat threatens to seize up on him. Of course he hasn’t been back. Not like he had a damn choice. As soon as he was in, Hubert whisked him away to Enbarr to begin preparations. Yuri sent letters, of course. Letters to Abyss, letters to the other three Wolves, but he suspected they never made it. Too much interference. So eventually, he stopped sending them.

“I was… otherwise occupied,” He chokes out.

“I know. Shit got wild.” Balthus turns and continues farther into the tunnels.

“That it did.”

“I came back a while in. Tried to look for you, but…”

“I was already in the Empire,” Yuri finishes. “I’m sorry, Balthus. I should have left a note for you to find.”

“It’s alright. I found out eventually. Not in a fun way, though.”

Nothing good to say to that. If Yuri had to guess, he only found out once he joined Claude’s ranks. Yuri has no name, no influence to speak of above the ground. His participation as a tactician was a closely guarded secret, not least of all for fear of seeding distrust among the Empire lords. 

Heh, well, it’s not like he’s got a good reputation. Yuri’s heels click on the stone tiles as they walk.

“I kept the torches lit for ya.” Balthus murmurs.

“Balthus…”

“Thought maybe you got caught up in somethin’ bad. But you’re a hard guy to pin down, yeah?” Balthus stares out at the tunnel opening where lanterns hang to light up Burrow Street. “I wanted to make sure that you knew you still had this place to fly back to if things got too tough. It’d be fucked up if I let it fall apart while you were gone.”

He stops abruptly at the mouth of the tunnel. Clears his throat, then suddenly, the serious, vulnerable Balthus is shoved away in favor of something a little more cheery than the moment calls for.

“Anyway, that’s enough of that, right?” Balthus pats him on the back and bellows out into the marketplace. “Hey, looks like we got an honored guest!”

“Honored guest?” Yuri snorts, “Balthus, what-”

“Yuri!” A blurry wall of force hits him at full speed, nearly knocking him over. It’s a young girl - Bella - five years older than Yuri last saw her.

“Watch it, squirt,” Yuri teases fondly. “It’s good to see you, kid.”

She’s grown so much. Pudgy cheeks leaner now that she’s shot up in height. She’s got a fair bit of muscle, too. Good. He hardly gets a moment to breathe before a few other kids round the corner. 

Heh, they’re not kids anymore, are they? Trina must have grown about a foot - she’s nearly as tall as Yuri now. Ren must be nearly seventeen by now, and he was always an old soul. Most of them are. You grow up pretty quick on the streets, yeah?

The kids pile on top of each other, tangling Yuri in a messy, tearful group hug. Happy tears, he hopes.

“Come now, you can’t be that upset to see me, yeah?” Yuri hugs the littlest ones close. “All these tears, you’d think someone died.”

“W-we thought you _were_ dead!” Trina sniffles. She’s the only one to speak up at first, but the looks on the others’ faces tell Yuri all he needs to know. He knew it might hurt them - to disappear like that - but facing it in truth… He half expected he’d never see their grimy little faces again at all.

“Never,” Yuri whispers. He soothes down Trina’s frizzy ginger locks. “It’ll take more than a few pissy nobles to take me down.”

When he looks up past the horde, more than just the street kids have gathered. All sorts of folks from Abyss have crowded around their little moment, undoubtedly curious about all the ruckus.

“Hey, it’s the Boss!” a warrior shouts from the stairwell. 

Must be the old Abysskeeper - Yuri would recognize that snark anywhere. He’s not ‘Boss’ anymore, though. He hardly deserves that title after everything he’s done. But the protest dies on his tongue when the Abyssians start shooting him firm nods of respect and hopeful little cheers ring out from the crowd.

Yuri can’t say he’s here to stay, but… He should say something. At the very least, ask their forgiveness, or—

“Sheesh, you’d think I was runnin’ this place into the ground with how happy they are to see you,” Balthus chuckles. “Alright, alright, give the guy a little space - he went through a whole lot of trouble to get back here, so give him a breather, yeah?”

“Run along now.” Yuri gives each of the children a parting hug. “I’ll come visit you later and you can tell me about all the messes you got into while I was gone.”

And by the conspiring looks they share amongst themselves, Yuri’s fairly certain they’ve got more than a few stories to share.

“They missed you a lot.”

“Well, they’re good kids.” Yuri watches them scamper off with a fond little smile. Good memories.

“C’mon, let’s get a drink.”

“Oh, did you finally pay off your tab?”

“Woah, pal. Can’t keep a guy from his booze during the war!” Balthus grins. “Claude’s got me covered.”

True to his word, the barkeep gladly hands over two tankards filled to the brim with lukewarm ale - an Abyssian delicacy. As great as it is to be back, Yuri is content to climb up to the surface for the night. The stars are out, and it’s springtime. Real springtime, not the sweltering heat the Empire calls pleasant. 

They walk in silence, mostly. Yuri ends up wandering towards the fishing pond. It’s been so long since he’s seen this place. The buildings have gone to shit - Edelgard’s doing - and the fields are filled with soldiers rather than students. Still, it’s… peaceful. He’s technically a prisoner of war, but none of the soldiers in the monastery seem to give him a second glance.

Yuri takes a seat on the pier, dangling his legs over the side. Balthus plops next to him.

He owes the guy an explanation, doesn’t he? If he hasn’t put the pieces together by now, Yuri will just have to fill them in.

“She offered me a deal right before the attack five years ago.” Yuri whispers. “Join up with them, and she swore she wouldn’t hurt Abyss. When Claude retook the monastery, I knew he would keep the place safe. I wasn’t sure he’d ever manage it, honestly. At that point, Edelgard couldn’t promise me protection anymore, but…”

Balthus looks right into him. Right through him. Goddess, Yuri hates it when he does that.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Balthus frowns.

“Just… nevermind,” He sighs, “It was too late. If I stepped out of line, Hubert vowed he’d blow it all to bits. Claude is smart, but he didn’t have the men. If Hubert were to pull a sneak attack while you met the Empire in battle…Well, she had the numbers, and Hubert would do anything to spite me. Killing civilians isn’t that much of a stretch.”

“You did what you thought was right. I know that. They know that too.”

“Hm. Did I?” Yuri lies back on the pier, gazing up at the star-dotted sky above. “I think maybe I should’ve had a little more faith in you.”

“Heh, I don’t know about that. I’m a bit late, aren’t I?”

“I’m still alive, so maybe you’re just in time.”

“Will you stay?” Balthus asks.

Of course, that’s a difficult question. And it’s the question that’s been on both of their minds since the wagon. Yuri may know his heart, but only fools are led by fickle things like that. What’s the best bet? What saves Abyss? What stops the damned bloodshed? He never planned on being alive to make a choice like this. 

“I want you to stay,” Balthus adds. “Fight for us, or just stay down in Abyss, I don’t care. I just don’t want you to fly back to her.” 

Whatever his decision, Yuri has no future with the Empire. Hubert hardly needed a _good_ reason to have Yuri executed. He’s too used to being the only snake in the palace. Not that Yuri doesn’t have his uses, but perhaps he’s more trouble than he’s really worth. So, as far as reasons to throw him in the dungeon go, this would do just fine.

And, well, to be fair, Yuri did betray the Empire with his little death wish.

“It’s your choice to make, though,” he shrugs, but his nonchalance is clearly forced. “I’m not gonna be your captor, and neither is Claude.”

“So, what, you’re serious about letting me leave?” Yuri sits up, carefully watching for tells. He finds none. Balthus is… He’s serious. At least, he believes what he’s saying.

Balthus fishes into his belt pockets, coming up with something Yuri thought he’d never lay eyes on again. Nine copper rings connected by thin, featherlight chains around fragments of bone. In the center lies a glassy red stone with the crest of Aubin - it's a relic. _His_ relic. Goddess…

“Dead serious.” Balthus hands over the Fetters of Dromi. The stone within glows happily as it lands in Yuri’s hands. Home with its bearer again, right where it belongs. But to give Yuri something so powerful… Balthus has _seen_ him wield it before. What the hell are they thinking?

“Take it. You’ll be safer that way, wherever you decide you wanna be.” 

“How the hell did you swing this?” Yuri carefully slides the fetters back onto his hand. Every ring fits perfectly into place… Distantly, he wonders if Aubin had the same size hands. “No way Claude just agreed to give me a Hero’s Relic and let me walk away.”

“He did. Didn’t even take that much convincing.” Balthus shrugs. “Guess he’s counting on you being madder at the Empire than you are at us.”

“Heh, well, he’s clever.”

“Clever enough to get you to stay?”

“Maybe.” Yuri chuckles, “You’ve given me a few convincing points.”

“I can give you more.” Balthus pulls Yuri onto his lap with a mischievous grin. “We have good food, and you can drink as much wine as you like after the battles.”

“Hmm, do go on.”

“No Huberts here. You can do whatever you like without creepy guys watching.”

“Definitely a plus.” He runs his copper-adorned fingers over Balthus’s jawline. Hard to say for sure, but Yuri suspects it’s not just the booze coloring his cheeks.

“And you don’t have to break my heart again,” Balthus whispers.

“Heh, you survived.”

And it’s true, but admittedly, Yuri does feel like shit about it. But explaining… It takes a lot of words, many of which he doesn’t have. It was messy - he knows that - but it doesn’t excuse how callous he was to leave Balthus wondering, even if it was an accident.

So instead of reaching for shitty words, Yuri kisses him. Slowly now, because they have time. At least for the moment, Yuri has nothing to lose. No duties calling him, no knife to his neck. So instead, Yuri savors the moment.

Balthus smiles against his lips, clearly willing to indulge him for as long as he pleases. And oh, Yuri _certainly_ plans to take advantage of that. For a long, mindless minute, Yuri lets himself drown in Balthus’s touch.

“I am sorry, though,” Yuri adds breathlessly, “I didn’t have any time to-”

“It’s fine,” Balthus shuts him up with another kiss. Ha, well, it’s a valid tactic. “It worked out, didn’t it? I survived, and you did too. So I’m not gonna dwell on it.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs. “Consider me not dwelling on it, then.”

“So, what’s it gonna be?”

Lots of decisions might make sense. Run away, leave Fodlan, and take a new name. Stay to defend Abyss, declare neutrality. Run back to the Empire and bargain with insider intel… He could even fuck off to the Kingdom somewhere, live life as a farm boy in his mother’s village…

But there’s only one decision he’ll be able to live with, so really, he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“You know, I’ve got a feeling you and Claude knew my answer before I did.”

And hey, Yuri’s looking forward to the promise of bottomless wine.

**Author's Note:**

> _So many people telling me one way  
>  So many people telling me to stay  
> Never had time to have my mind made up  
> Caught in a motion that I don't wanna stop_
> 
> * * *
> 
> That's right, I'm bringing back EVEN MORE early fanfic era trends with lyrics in the end note. Next I'll do a character dialogue disclaimer in the notes...
> 
> Anyways, I enjoyed writing this one quite a bit! Who are we writers if not merciless gods who exist to impose angst upon our favorite characters and ships?
> 
> Come say hi on Twitter :)  
> [@hanatamagos](https://twitter.com/hanatamagos)


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